


Side Quests: The Thedas Edition

by pagerunner



Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short pieces set during various points of the Dragon Age series. Might get expanded upon later. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders takes a moment post-battle to chat with his best friend and most loyal companion. Set during Awakening.

It would be easier to accept the occasional tumble on the battlefield, Anders thought, if it weren't for the feeling that the cat was smirking at him.  
  
Really, he ought to get over the feelings of embarrassment and simply be grateful for the cat's mysterious healing abilities. More often than not, he _was_ grateful, deeply and profoundly. But it did seem now and then as if Pounce were keeping score. During the last battle, when Anders had been surprised by an ogre grabbing him from behind and flinging him aside into a stone wall, he opened his eyes to find the little cat washing one paw and peering at him as if to say, _You should have seen that coming._  
  
Which he should have, honestly. It was kind of hard to miss an ogre. That, of course, only made him irritable about it, which was why he rubbed his sore head and muttered, "I'm a mage, not a _psychic._ We don't actually grow a third eye, you know, particularly not out the backs of our heads."  
  
Pounce meowed and butted up against his foot. Anders sighed and scratched him behind the ears.  
  
"Still," he said. "Thank you."  
  
Pounce purred, and Anders looked up at last to see the ogre in question sprawled lifelessly on the cavern floor. "Huh," Anders said, studying it through his still-hazy vision. The ogre had been anything but dead when he'd passed out. "I don't suppose I managed to get off a dramatic killing spell at the last moment, and have simply forgotten my heroics under all the, um, concussion…?"  
  
Pounce went on purring, in a very _not so much_ sort of way.  
  
"So who was it?" Anders sighed, looking at the distant silhouettes of his companions. They were picking their way back through the darkspawn corpses to retrieve him. "Our illustrious commander? Our remarkably-chatty-for-a-dead-person dwarven friend? She Who Could Flay Me Alive With Her Tongue?"  
  
Pounce didn't deign to reply. He merely rolled over, looking very much as if he wanted Anders to scratch his tummy. The mage, smiling and shaking his head, complied.  
  
"Next you'll be telling me that _you_ took the thing down single-handedly," he commented. "Or single-pawedly, I suppose."  
  
Pounce batted at his scratching fingers, all innocence.  
  
"Because I would believe all manner of things from you at this point," Anders dryly went on. "And seeing as you're not being terribly forthcoming…."  
  
Pounce yawned.  
  
"All right, new theory. While I was unconscious in my appallingly undignified way, you transformed into a twelve-foot-tall fire-breathing demon and char-broiled every darkspawn in sight, then set upon the ogre, wreaking your unholy vengeance upon it for felling your wise and benevolent master…."  
  
The cat stared at him. Anders sniffed, his smile going crooked.  
  
"You should be glad I'm willing to believe you're so fearsome," Anders said. "Bewaaaare the dangerous demon kitty."  
  
Pounce meowed, sounding suspiciously exasperated about it. Anders let out a tired laugh and picked him up, settling the cat into his lap.  
  
"Never let it be said I'm not actually benevolent, though," he said. "There will absolutely be fish for you when we get home, as thanks for saving my skin. Yes, there will."  
  
Pounce purred, curling up deeper into Anders' lap.  
  
"Oh, yes," Anders murmured, this time mostly to himself. "Behold the mighty battlemage and his awesome and terrible attack kitty. Fear us! For the mage might get himself knocked out within minutes, but that cat, now…." He paused. "Then again, I _did_ take out three hurlocks with a single spell on the way in. That was impressive, if I do say so myself. And I'm always going to beat you for battlefield witticisms, since, well…."  
  
Pounce, proving Anders' point, didn't have any commentary either way, but he did go on purring. Anders grinned and stroked his fur. "We do make a good team, don't we, Ser Pounce-a-Lot?"  
  
Pounce meowed. Anders smirked back, then considered the mess around him. There were many more messes of this sort yet before him, he knew. He sighed and arched an eyebrow. "Of course, if you do decide to become a cute, furry, ten-pound killing machine, do let me know so I can retire," he said, to which Pounce only snorted, or perhaps simply snored, since in true cat fashion he was falling asleep.  
  
Well. Anyone who'd just pulled off _that_ kind of healing spell would need a little rest, after all.  
  
Anders silently pondered the sleepy cat in his lap, thinking about the infinite strangeness of his circumstances and the even deeper strangenesses of his current group of friends. Then he smiled crookedly yet again. It was still better than anything he could have hoped for a few years ago. He knew that. Even if he did spend entirely too much money these days on kitty treats.  
  
"Yes," he murmured. "We make a very good team."  
  
With that, he got up with some difficulty and brushed dirt and grime off himself with his free hand. Then he reached for his staff. The tingling itch of darkspawn nearby was beginning to scratch at his spine. "Onwards and upwards, I suppose," he said. "Or downwards." He smiled grimly. "Lucky us."  
  
He waved to his approaching commander, called up a little magic to light his way, and prepared to head off into the unknown.


	2. Dream to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's music night at the Hanged Man. Unfortunately. Inspired by a drabble challenge and set during Dragon Age 2.

Aveline was getting all too used to dealing with disturbances at the Hanged Man, but they were usually more along the lines of barroom brawls, petty thievery and incidents of public indecency. They usually weren't….  
  
Well, this _loud._  
  
This was what happened, unfortunately, when you let the patrons of this particular bar have a music night: not only were there rowdy tavern songs and drunken, off-key proclamations of love, but incomprehensible choices of accompaniment -- was that a _goat_ she saw in one corner, bleating piteously? -- and what looked like a round of betting over who could successfully shatter one of the ale tankards with his voice alone. She probably _could_ file all this under "public indecency," come to think of it, but it was a distressingly inventive type of indecency that she hoped never to encounter again. No wonder the noise complaints had come from as far as the next street down.  
  
And in the middle of it all, Aveline saw, was Anders.  
  
In later years she'd learn that this above all things was the night that prompted Justice to keep Anders from ever imbibing again. The spirit had a definite (if somewhat ironic) point. Granted, Anders looked _happy_ \-- and it was hard to begrudge him that, as much as the man tended toward insufferable brooding under most circumstances -- but within about three notes, Aveline found herself desperately wishing he'd picked another outlet for his feelings. And that Isabela and Varric weren't in the front row, merrily egging him on.  
  
The lyrics, at least, were accurate enough, considering he _was_ utterly impossible to ignore like this.  
  
" _Sing_ it, Sparklefingers!" Isabela hooted, rising her tankard high, and Anders, Maker help them all, did exactly as she asked. Aveline stared a little helplessly, wondering why she'd never been prepared for this kind of situation in Guard training, and then realizing you probably never _could_ be prepared for this kind of situation. Somewhere in the midst of her deliberations, Varric finally noticed her and laughed.  
  
"Come to put this one to bed?" he asked.  
  
Anders, who _hadn't_ noticed her, enthusiastically proceeded into the next verse and nearly blocked out Aveline's voice when she answered, "I dearly hope so."  
  
"I wish you luck," Varric replied, shaking his head. "He's been at this for three songs now. You're a stronger woman than I if you're going to break _that_ up." He thought about that. "Well, far more of a woman, period, but the point stands--"  
  
"Ah, come now, Varric," Isabela laughed. "Let him finish the song, at least. A little appreciation for the classics!"  
  
"That's a classic?" Aveline said, pained. Anders had just hit a particularly high note. Badly. "I wasn't aware it was supposed to be recognizable…."  
  
" _She_ requested the song, I should point out," Varric said, pointing at Isabela. "Don't blame me."  
  
Up on the makeshift stage of overturned crates, Anders proceeded into the chorus, and Aveline at least recognized what the song was meant to be. She winced. Now she knew what was coming -- and she absolutely _had_ to stop the madness before it got worse.  
  
"'cause you're a dream to me," Anders sang, oblivious to the oncoming Guardswoman. "Dreeeeam to meeeeee."  
  
"You could at _least_ ," Aveline gritted out to Isabela as she stalked past, truncheon in hand, "have picked a song that didn't involve _yodeling._ "  
  
And she was quite convinced that despite her efforts to restore the peace, Isabela's laughter that night was the loudest, most irrepressible sound of all.


	3. The Monster Beneath the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders finally does something about this seven-years-without-a-cat drought. Uh-oh. Set late-ish in Dragon Age 2.

Hawke didn't discover what Anders had done this time until she arrived home to find Mouse nosing underneath the bed, not _growling_ , exactly, but… grumbling. On the opposite side of the bed, Anders was kneeling in a similar position, but he was being more entreating. "Come on out, now," he said to something yet unseen. "I promise I won't let that great brute over there hurt you--"  
  
" _Excuse_ me," Hawke said, just as Mouse's grumble reached all new heights of irritation, and not at what was _beneath_ the bed. "Don't insult my dog."  
  
Anders made a face. "I promise," he said with exaggerated care, "I won't let that massive bundle of overgrown puppy joy and love and rainbows maul you with his terrible, monstrous teeth. Is that better?"  
  
Mouse's expression suggested that the only monster in the vicinity was hiding out with the dirty socks. Hawke sighed. "Dare I ask," she said, not answering Anders' question, "what you're talking to?"  
  
Anders poked his head up at last, smiling sheepishly. It was an odd expression on him these days, an evident contrast to his gaunter frame and darker robes. "Er. I might have been speaking with Matthias earlier tonight--"  
  
Hawke remembered the man. Matthias's templar brother had fallen to the various temptations of his authority, and Matthias, appalled at his brother's actions, had become a stalwart sympathizer of the mistreated mages. He'd become a frequent contact for Anders. "Surely _he's_ not hiding under the bed?" Hawke said, resisting the urge to bend down and peek. Anders snorted.  
  
"If he can't learn to keep his mouth shut in public, perhaps he'll need to -- but no." He considered the darkness beneath the bed again. "This one's his neighbor's fault."  
  
"His… neighbor."  
  
"Sophia," Anders said, sounding a bit long-suffering. "Lovely elderly woman, mostly deaf -- thank the Maker -- and she's rather fond of… well…."  
  
Something from the depths let out a plaintive _mew._ Hawke stared.  
  
"Cats," Anders finished.  
  
"Oh," Hawke said. "Dear."  
  
"Could you please," he said, "ask Mouse to back off for a moment?"  
  
Hawke stared a little while longer, then extended a hand toward her mabari. He looked up at her, sighed, and walked over to her side. Anders took the opportunity to reach beneath the bed again. "Come on, girl… oh, _there_ we go…."  
  
When he emerged, he was holding a small ball of grey fluff, almost as if the dust beneath the bed had coalesced into a living being. It mewed again once, then settled into Anders' arms as he held it against his chest. Hawke thought she heard a tiny purr.  
  
"I know I've said I like tabbies," Anders said, "but this one just…."  
  
He gently petted the kitten's head. Hawke heard an even more distinct purr, one that made Anders' head tilt and that endearing, sheepish smile cross his face again.  
  
"She kind of attached herself to me," Anders said. "She just walked up and _meowed_ and butted her head against my hand, and, well…."  
  
Well, indeed. Feeling embarrassingly powerless herself against what was unfolding before her, Hawke watched the kitten's tail flick against Anders' robes, making the feathers flutter. The way he was cradling the tiny creature was so terribly gentle. Hawke's eyes lingered on his fingers, and she had a few distracting throughts before she glanced at the enormous mabari by her own side, who gave her a look as if to say, _He's going to be insufferable about that thing._  
  
Anders, as if anticipating the argument to come, said, "You know I've been wanting a cat for the longest time. Sophia kept encouraging me. I couldn't say no -- especially since she couldn't even hear me when I replied, anyway…."  
  
Hawke put up what little defense she could. "I barely even know what to _feed_ a cat."  
  
"That's easy. I'll take care of it."  
  
"And the messes afterwards?"  
  
Anders looked a bit insulted. "Can't be any worse than what your dog leaves about. I said: I'll take care of it."  
  
Mouse growled at Anders the instant the words "your dog" were spoken. The cat reacted quickly, and got out of Anders' grip to scamper onto his shoulders, glaring down at Mouse from the higher vantage point. Anders laughed when the cat's tail switched into his ear. "Easy. I said I won't let him hurt you."  
  
The cat seemed less than convinced. Hawke arched an eyebrow at them both and said, "I'm more worried that that cat will decide to hurt your _robes._ All those feathers -- that cat must think you're the gawkiest bird ever to flap by--"  
  
"Pfft. She's smarter than that."  
  
"Really? Have you given her a little quiz?" Hawke felt a smile creep up on her, entirely despite herself. "Assessed her position on the world scale of kitty intelligence?"  
  
"She picked me," Anders said. "Clearly she's a feline genius."  
  
Mouse snorted. Hawke suppressed a laugh, turned to her mabari and said, "I don't think you're going to have much luck talking him out of this, you know." Mouse's tail drooped. "But look at it this way. How much trouble can something that small be?"  
  
Mouse looked even more glum. _Lots,_ his expression said. _Lots and lots._  
  
"It's a big house," Anders said, as if the matter were settled. "I'm sure we can all find a way to live together in it amicably."  
  
The cat purred loudly. Mouse sighed just as deeply. Hawke snorted in wry amusement. "You'd think from Mouse's reaction that we just invited a terrible demon into the house."  
  
"Oh, you did _that_ already." Anders grinned crookedy at her. "But I think you'll find we've all survived."  
  
Her lip twitched. For lack of any possible comment to _that_ , she said, "So…what are you planning on calling her?"  
  
Anders knew as well as she did that naming meant permanence, and he grinned. He reached up to stroke the kitten's back. She arched into the touch and nuzzled his cheek; Hawke found herself thinking that she knew just how the cat felt. "You know what? I haven't even decided on a name." He beamed at Hawke. "But maybe you can help me."  
  
"Better be careful with that," Hawke said. "I might start calling her something like Hortensia. After the doddering old village washerwoman I used to know. She had three teeth, as I recall."  
  
"You're a wicked woman."  
  
"I try."  
  
Anders waggled his eyebrows. "I certainly hope you will."  
  
Mouse gave one last long-suffering sigh at them both and padded away. Hawke smiled ruefully, but sat down on the bed with Anders to bat names back and forth, just as the kitten leapt across the bed to bat about a stray feather. Anders watched the kitten trip over a fold in the coverlet, burst out laughing and reached out to help. Hawke considered what was liable to happen to the bed by the time the cat was finshed, but after a minute, she decided it didn't really matter.  
  
Anything was worth a little trouble if it could give Anders back that smile.  
  
She smiled too, and slid close enough to put an arm around him. Silently she promised herself she'd make it up to Mouse -- and in the meantime, she settled in to enjoy the moment for as long as she could make it last.


End file.
